


Supernatural Drabbles/One-Shots/Headcanons/Rants

by calamityProphet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, DO I HAVE TO NAME IT MYSELF, Drabbles, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gay, How Do I Tag, I suck at summarizing, I suck at this, I will add tags as I write, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, I'm bad at summarizing, Language, M/M, Mild Language, OKAY I JUST WATCHED THE SCENE AGAIN AND GABRIEL'S DOG ACTUALLY HAS NO NAME, Rambling, Rants, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, a place for my stuff, anyway, because i will, but anyway, characters will be added as we go, collection, i suck at writing it, idk - Freeform, im just putting those there for future reference, lmk if im inaccurate, maybe smut, oneshots, over explaining, really gay, so will relationships, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9085885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamityProphet/pseuds/calamityProphet
Summary: a;lskdjfa; sd I can't summarize I'm so sorry this is just a story to hold all my spn shit





	1. Um Shit IDK What This Is

Hi idk what this is sorry about my grammar it's either perfect or weird and bad like this.  Welcome to my whatever the fuck this is thing.  Read it idk.


	2. Under The Door (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saw a Sabriel prompt/fic request on tumblr and I loved it so I had to do it.
> 
> Prompt:  
> "Ok so I kinda really need a fic in which Gabriel is playing the violin/piano in his flat, and hears someone slip a note under his door. When he looks at it, he sees that it’s a request to play something. He plays it and hears someone clapping a few balconies above him. This process repeats itself for several months until finally the two meet at a concert house and Sam recognises the very characteristic way with which Gabriel plays his instrument. Please write this."  
> (tardisdementor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo I said I'd do this a few hours ago but I'm just now getting to it. Um. Why am I adding notes idk. um if I think of anything I'll either add it here or put it at the end so yeah. Oh, so I intended this to be a short oneshot but now that I'm writing I may make it longer. It's either gonna be really really long or I'm gonna make this story into parts and I don't want it to come to that but I don't necessarily want it to be too long.

He rapidly pulled the bow across the strings, making an intense and accented sound.  The random notes morphed into a tune, one he knew almost better than any other:  In The Hall Of The Mountain King.  It had been one of the first pieces he was taught and he’d played it so many times he could do it in his sleep.  The repetitive notes and structure came quite naturally to him and it was a nice change of pace from the long and complex pieces he had been practicing.  He lifted the bow off the string and let the last note ring.  A faint smile creeped across his face as the last echo faded into nothingness.  He enjoyed the silence, until it was broken by a small noise.  He turned to see what caused it and saw a paper by the door.  He set down the violin on the coffee table and walked over to the note, picking it up and opening it.

 

_If you don’t mind me asking, could you play the Bach Chaconne in D minor?_

 

He was confused at first, unsure of who could have or would have slipped it under the door and why.   _Well, why not?_ He shuffled through a binder for a minute, before pulling out the music.  He glanced over it to jog his memory, before putting it back.  He picked up the violin and moved to the window and opened it.  He pressed his fingers to the strings and began to play, letting his memory take control of his actions.  This was yet another piece he’d learned and memorized before; however, this one was for a concert rather than for fun.  His body moved with the music, swaying gently with the melody.  

 

~~~~~~

  
His hand shook with vibrato on the final note, long after the bow had left the string.  Once the sound faded, another took its place.  Clapping.   _What—_ the sound was definitely coming from outside.  He looked out the window, but still couldn’t find who it was.  He shrugged it off and closed the window before putting away his violin for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said I didn't want it to get too long but this is really short. I know. It's short because (even though it's in third person) I didn't know how to smoothly transition between character points of view. I'm not an omniscient third person, yknow. So this is gonna have parts. yeah. I'll probably get the next part up pretty soon.


	3. Under The Door (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part two of the sabriel fic prompt I've been working on. Sam's side.

He slid the piece of paper under the stranger’s door and quickly walked away, not wanting to possibly be stopped and questioned about it.  Nervously, he gripped the strap of his bag as he ascended the next few flights of stairs.   _ What was I thinking?  What was I thinking?   _ **_What was I thinking?_ **  The question spun around his head over and over until he made it to his apartment.  He pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, closing it behind him.  He set down his things and sat on the couch.  He ran his fingers through his hair and mentally kicked himself over and over for sending the note.   _ It was a stupid idea, it’s not like he’ll even read it.  Why would he?   _ He sighed heavily and tried to forget what he’d done, when he heard music coming from outside.   _ That’s not... No, it can’t be... _  he went over to the the glass balcony door and opened it.   _ Oh, my god, it is. _  He looked around for the source of the song and saw a man playing violin.   _ He did it.  He read it.   _ As he listened he began to smile and forget the world around him.  He’d always liked classical music.  It helped him relax and he loved this piece specifically.  Why?  He never knew.  He just did.  As the song continued, he began to pick up on the subtle differences in the piece.  Everyone played differently and thus every time a piece is performed, a person’s own performance is unique.  He’d heard it so many times and by so many people that it was easy to spot.  The way he was careful with his vibrato, never using it unless absolutely necessary yet fluid and beautiful to the point where it was so natural you might not notice it.  The way you hear certain notes ring because he was unafraid to lift the bow (now that may sound odd, but not everyone has the gut and talent to pull off unwritten bow lifts or just lifting the bow off the string in general.)  Despite all the times he’d heard this and all the ways he’d heard it played, this one still stood out.  Whether it was his unique tricks and twists he played with or that he played it just for him, he couldn’t tell.  He leaned against the side of the building and closed his eyes, just enjoying the melody of the piece.

 

~~~~~~

 

It took him a second to process that the song was over after he heard the final note echo.  Instinctively, he looked down at the man’s window again and began to clap.  He saw him come to the window and panicked.   _ Shit.   _ He stopped suddenly and went back inside his apartment, closing the balcony door behind him.

  
“God, that was close.”  He muttered to himself as he sat down and rifled through his bag.  He stopped when he found his papers and began going over them one last time before he’d have to turn them in tomorrow.  He honestly loved college, but he  _ hated _ it.  Just the stress of it.  If tests and papers and essays and presentations weren’t so stressful, he’d basically be living the dream.  Not too long after finding his papers, thoughts of his classes and student life swept over his mind, clearing it of all anxiety.  Well,  _ former _ anxiety.    


	4. Under The Door (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter of filler and context and background. Just to waste time until I can realistically time-skip to when things will actually happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's POV (well, it's third person focused on him)

He glanced at the time on his phone and sighed. Honestly, he had an exorbitant amount of free time.  He was rarely busy.  He was just a performer who occasionally took up a job as a substitute teacher.  Remembering that his concert was just over a month away, he went and began unpacking his violin.  He tightened the bow hair, then rosined it. Setting it down,  he picked up the violin and fixed the shoulder rest.  Once everything was prepared, he began to tune.  A, then D, then G, then E.  Back to A.  Quick once-over just for good measure.  He flipped through his music for the upcoming performance for a second before he landed on a piece.  _ The Red Violin Caprices.  _  It did not deserve to be the piece that he so royally screwed up every time he played.  The most aggravating part was that he  _ could _ play all of it perfectly fine but when he tried to play through the piece one section, one measure, one godforsaken note would cause him to mess up. It was never the same spot, either.  That was actually one of the reasons he chose it:  his loathing of it.  He knew having it in a concert would force him to play it over and over until eventually he had won.

 

He took a deep breath and placed the bow on the string.  He glanced at the key signature and quickly played a few scales.  He breathed once more and started the piece.  The beginning of the piece wasn't the problem, no, it was easy.  That didn’t last long, however.  As the song sped up, he felt the strings digging into his fingers as they and the bow flew across the strings.  His vague, rigid movements stayed in time, slowing down or speeding up with the piece’s ever-changing tempo.  He was doing well so far— but a single mistake, but in no way was he in the clear just yet.

 

“Damn it!”  He cursed to himself.  He’d gotten so far without messing up.  But as fate would have it, he fumbled yet again.  He was seriously considering taking a match to the piece and saying “fuck it” and finding a new one to replace this hellspawn.  He wouldn't— he  _ couldn't—  _ give in to the aggravating music.  He was too stubborn for that.

 

He began again, only to play the wrong before he even finished the theme.  He was ready to toss the music off the stand when he's heard a small sound.  Why had he heard that before?  His eyes jumped around the room in an attempt to identify the sound when he noticed something at the door.  He flashed back to earlier in the week and the anonymous request he’d gotten.  He set down his instrument again and approached the note.  He unfolded it and read what it had to say.

 

_ I hate to bother you again, but if it's not too much to ask, could you play Mozart’s “Violin Sonata No. 22 in A major”? Thank you. _

 

He smiled at the paper, appreciating this unknown person's request.  It have him something to do (besides practice the hell piece over and over) and he found it comforting that someone actually liked his music.  Until this person showed up, he mostly got “requests” to play elsewhere or to keep it down.  He walked over to his music and shuffled through it.  Upon finding the music that he had been asked to play, he moved his stand to the window.  He unlocked and raised the glass barrier after setting the music across the stand.  He briefly made sure he was still in tune as he got ready to start playing.  Honestly, in the terms of classical music,  _ Violin Sonata No. 22  _ was on the short side, which was a nice change of pace from the lengthy piece he’d practiced earlier.  It was also more cheerful and less... Depressing, melancholy, whatever term you would call it.  The third and final difference he recalled as he played:  This song wasn’t written as punishment for anyone who tried to play it.

 

~~~~~~

  
He bowed the last triple stops sharply, then played the final A’s.   _ It really isn’t the same without the piano. _  Once again, he heard clapping after he had finished the piece.  This time, however, he didn’t bother to try and find the person.  He was just going to appreciate it.  It's not like finding out could be life-changing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, 9 times out of 10 I will find and reference sheet music for any songs (especially classical ones) that I use. If I do make any errors, please let me know.


End file.
